


sway

by maledict



Category: GOT7
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Edgeplay, Edging, Hand Domination, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maledict/pseuds/maledict
Summary: Jaebum can't sleep.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

 

Jinyoung was a dim shape in the darkness, lit briefly by a slash of light from the fridge. When he came into the living room, the glancing glow from the flickering TV threw the planes of his face into soft washed-out relief. He had a glass of cold water in his hand.

“Jaebum-hyung?”

His voice was a cautious low croak, thick with sleep. From the couch, Jaebum made a noise of acknowledgement.

“It’s—” Jinyoung checked the time on the TV set. “Three in the morning. Why are you out here?”

“Can't sleep,” muttered Jaebum. He'd been trying for hours.

There was a pause, and then Jinyoung padded over. He sat on the edge of the couch, next to Jaebum’s hip. “Any reason why?”

Jaebum shrugged. Of the seven of them, he was usually the first to drift off. Jackson called it a talent. “Stress, I guess.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“Since yesterday.”

“ _Hyung_ ,” Jinyoung said, managing, somehow, to sound both concerned and disparaging.

Jaebum shrugged again. “It is what it is.”

Jinyoung was silent for a long, considering moment. He drank his water, and turned his face toward the TV, but Jaebum could tell he wasn't really watching it.

“I think I can help,” he said, eventually. The rust had been cleared from his throat. “If you want to try.”

Jaebum blinked tiredly up at him. “Try? Try what?”

Jinyoung said, “I’ll show you. Just lie back.”

Jaebum shot him a weary, suspicious look, but in the white-blue light, Jinyoung looked so open and sincere that he relented, too exhausted to put up much of a fight. At this point, he'd try anything.

He leaned back, sinking down in his spot a bit. “Fine.”

“Close your eyes,” said Jinyoung. He put his half-drunk glass of water onto the floor.

Jaebum did, slowly. He said, “Don't do anything weird.”

There was was a pause, and a muted rustle, and then two twin points of cool pressure on his temples. Jinyoung’s dew-wet fingertips, slowly circling.

Jaebum grunted and settled against the couch pillows, sighing through his nose. He wasn’t much for skinship, but if this was what Jinyoung meant, he’d take it.

Jinyoung's fingers worked him into a semi-aware doze. He could feel them creep down his cheekbones, his jawline, massaging the tension out of the hinges of it, down his neck, to his shoulders; Jinyoung spent some time there, pressing his thumbs into the divots connecting Jaebum’s arms to his torso, and then his deltoids, walking down to his biceps. Jinyoung’s touch was light and punishing in turns, getting out the knots and then soothing them afterward. Jaebum thought briefly about turning onto his stomach, so Jinyoung could reach the muscles of his back, but he was too relaxed like this; he wasn’t about to move and ruin it.

Carefully, Jinyoung continued down Jaebum’s arms, one after the other: triceps first, skating over the dip of his inner elbow to his forearms, and then finally to his hands, massaging between the delicate bones, between the ridges of his knuckles. He squeezed down each finger, pressing the tips, attentively stroking every nail. By the time he'd finished with each hand, Jaebum was floating in a void of vague, heavy satisfaction.

“Mm,” he rumbled. “Feels good.”

Jinyoung didn’t reply, but even half-dozing, Jaebum could imagine his smug half-smile.

His hands slid up Jaebum’s arms to his broad chest, resting over his heart and sternum. Jaebum was so out of it that he didn't try to protest, or make him stop. It felt good; it felt natural. Like the low-level gratification that came with hot showers or a long cleansing soak at the jjimjilbang. Jinyoung pressed lightly just under his collarbones, radiating outward; he flattened his hands, palms warm, and slid them down, dragging lightly over Jaebum’s nipples.

A little shock of pleasure pulsed through him, curling deep in his belly. They’d peaked up without him knowing it, hardening into nubs through the thin fabric of his muscle tee.

Jaebum inhaled, shifting slightly against the couch cushions. Jinyoung paused. His hands were splayed over the curve of Jaebum’s ribs, his thumbs resting just under his pectorals. Slowly, as if testing the waters, he rubbed them again over the hard little buds, back and forth, and Jaebum’s mouth opened on a quiet, barely-there moan.

It occurred to him hazily that this was weird; that it’d been weird for a while, that he'd _told_ Jinyoung not to do something like this, that this wasn't what he'd signed up for when he'd agreed to Jinyoung’s help. But he was floating, still half-under, and it felt _good_. With his eyes still closed, listening to the low white noise of the TV, it was almost like he was dreaming.

Jinyoung didn't linger there, though; his hands slid down Jaebum’s abdomen, across his abs, which tightened up underneath his touch, and then relaxed when Jinyoung did nothing but warm them with his palms.

He half-expected Jinyoung to start in on his thighs, but he didn't; he just rubbed circles across Jaebum’s hips, curling his long fingers just underneath the hem of his tank, as if calming a spooked horse. Jaebum’s breath came in steady, even puffs, spine relaxed, muscles slack. He almost didn't care where Jinyoung touched him next, as long as he _did_ keep touching him, so Jaebum could keep feeling like he was drifting in an ocean of calm.

There was another pause, where Jinyoung’s hands stilled. Jaebum made a tiny impatient noise in the back of his throat, and Jinyoung’s fingertips pressed into his skin, as if to mollify him. He thought he heard Jinyoung take in a breath, a soft whisper in the sea of soft background noise—then a hand slowly passed over the front of his shorts, cupping him gently, and Jaebum realized belatedly that he was half-hard, and had been ever since Jinyoung had rolled his nipples under the pads of his thumbs.

He couldn’t help it. He let out one low, sticky, muted note.

The sound of his own voice chilled him. Panic flooded his body, gripping his heart tight. His eyes flew open, and he jerked up onto his elbows and stared at Jinyoung, swallowing. The calm rushed out of him like a bullet from a gun; his cheeks felt hot, flushed with embarrassment.

“Jinyoung, I—” He was about to apologize, mortified, but it melted on his tongue, replaced by anger just as fast. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Because Jinyoung was still cupping him, his palm a gentle, hot pressure against Jaebum’s dick, and he was just looking at him, calm as ever. Unfazed.

“Helping,” he said softly. His fingers had stilled, but his eyes were sharp and honest. “Do you trust me?”

Jaebum’s jaw clenched, and he warred with himself for a moment. He said, “Yes, but—”

Jinyoung interrupted him. “Then trust me to help.”

“This—” _Is wrong_ , he didn't say, because then Jinyoung squeezed him, and the words died right in his throat, hitching into another small, humiliating noise.

“Relax. Can you relax for me, hyung?”

Jaebum couldn’t answer. The adrenaline had spiked all of the serenity out of his body, and he was trying to wrangle it back, to get his temper under control. Deep breaths. He swallowed again, throat clicking, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. But his body was betraying him, his cock only getting harder in Jinyoung’s feather-light grip.

His mind raced. He couldn’t let this happen. But the one thing he hadn't tried was this, and only because he was too tired to put in the effort. If someone else… and it didn’t have mean anything; he just wanted to be dead to the world, to get some sleep. Selfishly, the promise of an orgasm where he didn't have to do it himself was too good to truly deny, and Jinyoung was _offering._ Jaebum wasn’t making him do it.

Inhaling shakily, he lay back, decision made. “Lotion’s in my bedside table,” he grunted, voice barely anything. This wasn’t going to happen dry.

But Jinyoung just nodded, and left to retrieve it. Jaebum closed his eyes again and willed his racing heart to slow, forcing his fingers to uncurl. After a moment, he felt Jinyoung’s weight sink back next to him; a purposefully tender fingertip touched lightly at his hipbone, alerting him to his presence. But Jaebum did nothing but lie there, listening to a faint snapping click, and then the squelching sound of Jinyoung’s lotion-slick hands rubbing together.

A pair of thumbs hooked into the waistband of his shorts. Jinyoung pulled them gently down and off his legs, and settled in next to his bare hip. The muscles of Jaebum’s thighs tightened and then relaxed. Jinyoung wrapped a warm hand fully around him.

He went slow, lightly teasing at Jaebum’s cock with soft strokes of his fingers until it thickened and swelled fully, lying fat and flushed against his thigh. Jaebum’s eyes were winched shut. He couldn’t look Jinyoung in the face as he was doing this, pretending that it wasn’t him; just a disembodied hand, maybe a woman's hand—a foreign touch, something divorced from reality.

But—it was still _Jinyoungie_ , and Jaebum couldn’t help but wonder if how he touched Jaebum now was how he touched himself when he was all alone, with nobody to see. How he treated his own cock. If he did _this._

Jinyoung’s voice drifted through the haze. “Tell me when you’re close, hyung.”

Jaebum grunted, meaning _fine_ , and focused.

Jinyoung’s fingers ran the length of him, ghosting over his cockhead, switching up the angle; he adjusted his grip frequently, twisting his wrist so the the edges of his fingers rubbed up and down Jaebum’s dick in ways he’d never felt before, had never been able to. The pressure at the pit of his stomach increased in waves, lapping in and out. Shocks of pleasure pulsed continually through his cock, up and down his spine, curving slowly toward Jinyoung.

Jaebum’s hands curled into loose fists, and then he grabbed onto the material of the couch cushions, needing something to hold onto, something to anchor him. He started thrusting incrementally up to meet Jinyoung’s downward strokes, needing more, reaching for that edge. His breath was coming faster now, rushing out of him in short bursts. He tried to keep his throat closed, to shut down the noises before they could make themselves known, but he couldn’t help himself: little gasping groans escaped his open mouth as Jinyoung worked his dick, jerking faster now, harder, his hand a slick, unforgiving vice.

All his muscles tensed, re-knotting in all the places Jinyoung had touched before: he groaned low, tilting his hips up, _up_ into that sweet tight grip.

“I’m close,” he rasped, hurtling toward the edge. “I’m gonna—”

Jinyoung’s hand slipped away.

“ _No_ ,” he growled, low and wanting; he could feel his orgasm halt and simmer, coalescing at the base of his cock. It twitched, bare, dripping. “No, Jinyoung, what the hell?”

He opened his eyes and turned to glare at him, frustrated. This was supposed to help him _relax?_

Jinyoung, ever composed, wasn’t even looking at him; he was rubbing his hands together with more lotion, the action strangely perfunctory and elegant. He let Jaebum pant for a few more seconds before deliberately meeting his eyes and placing a hand flat on his stomach, buttery and smooth. Slowly, he rucked Jaebum’s tank up his chest and pinched at a stiff nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

Jaebum inhaled sharply, the sensation bright and new—a different kind of pleasure, more intense than before. Jinyoung played with him a little more, tugging on the brown nub, before suddenly leaning over. Jaebum almost jerked away, but Jinyoung’s mouth didn’t meet his skin; he just breathed over his chest and watched Jaebum’s nipple stiffen up even more, the skin around it pebbling.

“Jinyoungie,” Jaebum whispered. Jinyoung’s tongue peeked out from between his lips, hot breath gusting, and Jaebum nearly groaned at the sudden wave of pure _want_ that crashed into him. He imagined Jinyoung’s mouth fastened over his nipples, alternating, licking at them with his warm slick tongue. Jinyoung was _so_ close; just a little more, and his lips would be touching Jaebum’s chest, would be kissing his skin.

Jinyoung’s eyes flicked up and fixed on his, and he looked so calculating and intent that it felt like Jaebum had been punched in the gut. But then Jinyoung was leaning back, returning a hand to his cock, and Jaebum’s whine was cut right in half; the touch jolted through him, the tightness of Jinyoung’s slick, hot palm, and suddenly Jaebum was back at the precipice, building toward release.

He groaned long and low, involuntarily bucking his hips up, and Jinyoung began to jerk him again, slow and steady. It was louder, now—humiliatingly obvious, the wet sounds of Jinyoung’s palm squelching over the bulbous head of his cock, the ridge of his glans, flushed a dark and straining red.

“Jesus,” he said, choked. “Oh—oh, fuck, yeah, Jinyoung-ah, I’m—”

Again, Jinyoung took his hand away.

“Fuck!” Jaebum yelled, arching his hips into nothing. His cock throbbed with the agony of withheld pleasure. “ _Fuck_.”

Jinyoung smiled, the kind of quiet knowing smile Jaebum really fucking _hated_ sometimes. _Fine_ , he thought; if Jinyoung wouldn’t let him come, he’d do it himself, and he reached down to finish the job.

Before he could, Jinyoung slapped his hand away and caught his dick in a punishing grip, leveling him with an unimpressed glare. His voice was low and tranquil and mean.

“You don’t get to decide when you come, hyung,” he said. “I do.”

Jaebum stared at him, eyes wide, but then Jinyoung gave him a _sinfully_ good squeeze, and he wordlessly put his hands back to his sides.

It was exquisite torture. Every time he got close, even if he didn’t say it, Jinyoung knew, and he stopped touching Jaebum before he could drive himself over the edge. The waves of pleasure built and ebbed, built and ebbed, cultivated by Jinyoung’s clever hand; Jaebum’s cock felt like a red-hot brand, blood-engorged and oversensitive. He lost count of how many times Jinyoung stopped him from coming, how many minutes had passed since they’d started. He couldn’t fucking stand it. He wondered if Jinyoung would keep doing this forever. Keep denying him like this forever.

He wondered if he could bear it that long, and knew that he couldn’t. He was going to break eventually, and Jinyoung was going to see him crumble, and Jaebum wouldn’t be able to stop it. It was inevitable.

Jaebum’s head slammed back. He hissed, arms flexing helplessly at his sides. Searing heat throbbed in his groin, ever-present, driving all thought out of his brain: his balls were drawn up high and ready, clinging tight to the base of his dick. Everything felt whipcord-tense, like a balloon hovering just over a needle, poised to burst. All he could think about was Jinyoung’s hand on his cock, Jinyoung’s slender, sweet fingers; about coming and never stopping; about Jinyoung touching him, getting him there, helping him over the brink into a sea of white hot pleasure.

“Please,” he whimpered, voice low and cracked. “Stop. Just let me come.”

Jinyoung tilted his head, looking at him. His eyes were dark, hooded; his lips quirked slightly with a fond sort of sadism. He was enjoying this. He had to love it, seeing Jaebum squirm. He said, “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Jaebum didn’t know how to answer that. Before, he would have said, scoffed, _no_ , not at first—but he did, he wanted it now. It burned him inside.

Jinyoung asked, “Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Yes,” whispered Jaebum.

“Why would you want to stop feeling good?”

“I don’t,” he said, swallowing around the ache in his throat. Jinyoung’s eyes glittered.

“Then don’t.”

Jaebum dropped his head back. “Jinyoung-ah, _please._ ”

Jinyoung’s fingers curled back around him, one by one, and Jaebum groaned deep in his chest. By now, the pleasure was almost unbearable. It throbbed through him to the sound of his heart, roaring in his ears, surging in his cock, the overwhelming need of it dumbing him down to rough, animal sounds; his tongue felt thick and useless in his mouth. It was like his ribs were barely keeping his organs from exploding out of him. Like his skeleton was too big and sharp for his skin. His thighs quaked. Sweat poured off of him, staining the cushions below. His dick was wetter and harder than it’d ever been, dribbling oozes of pre-come down the creases of his inner thighs, the high curve of his balls.

He couldn’t. He needed. “Please. _Please_ let me come, Jinyoung-ah.” Jaebum heaved a desperate moan as Jinyoung backed off again, leaving him to twitch and gasp. “Fuck. Oh fuck.”

“Please what?”

“ _Please_ ,” Jaebum begged, mindless. “Touch me?”

After a moment, Jinyoung circled his hand right over Jaebum’s swollen cockhead and rubbed at it with rough half-jerks, tight-fisted and ruthless, right where he was most sensitive. Jaebum nearly screamed at the burst of torturous sensation. “Please what,” Jinyoung repeated, calm, and Jaebum couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. His mouth worked, but nothing came out. He wanted to come so badly, it was consuming him, eating him up from the inside.

“Jaebum-hyung,” Jinyoung said softly, reminding him. “Please what? Use your words.”

Jaebum’s spine arched slowly up, the muscles of his thighs and abdomen tensing into little furrows. His entire world had narrowed down to just his stiff, throbbing cock, and Jinyoung’s hand on it; the sound of Jinyoung’s wet fingers, and the feeling of his thumb pressing lightly into the seam of his balls, teasing at the tender, silky flesh; the waves and waves of inescapable, approaching oblivion.

“Jinyoung-ah,” he moaned, not knowing what Jinyoung wanted, but willing to try anything. He switched into jondaemal without even really thinking about it. “Please, Jinyoung-ssi, seonsaengnim, _please_ let me come—”

Jinyoung’s smile widened. Maybe he’d thought Jaebum wouldn’t go that far, but Jaebum was beyond shame, beyond the humiliation of begging. The desperation was tearing at him.

“I'm so close,” he panted. “Can I come? Can I please come?”

Jinyoung jerked him hard, just once more; Jaebum’s hips thrusted entirely off the couch, and he yelled wordlessly. His hand found Jinyoung’s thigh and clawed into it. Jinyoung still held him by the cock, but he waited for Jaebum’s hips to settle again before beginning to milk him, pumping him hard and fast, coaxing the pressure to unbearable levels.

Jaebum’s orgasm crashed into him like a freight train, and his entire world disappeared. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his body shook violently; come spurted wildly in arcs over his stomach and chest, streaking up to his chin, slicking Jinyoung’s knuckles, frothing up in the spaces between his fingers.

For a second, the fear that Jinyoung would keep touching him when he was too sensitive to bear it rolled over him, and he sobbed out a gasp, bucking his hips up and away—but Jinyoung let go, and Jaebum slumped down again, panting and buzzing with inexplicable feeling, his muscles continuing to spasm, lungs gasping for air.

“Good boy,” Jinyoung said, and it didn't even bother Jaebum that he was being talked down to, like a child; all Jaebum could think was: _yes, God, yes._ “You’ve done well,” Jinyoung continued. “What do you say?”

He knew this one, instinctively; head lolling, eyes cracked open, Jaebum looked at Jinyoung sitting there, not a single hair out of place, save for the faint flush of red across his cheekbones, and the pink swell of his lips, and the way his eyes were piercingly glassy and dark. An erection was poking up at the crotch of his pajama bottoms, straining at them. Jaebum licked his dry lips; he felt inexplicably proud that he’d caused it.

“Thank you,” Jaebum murmured, chest heaving, vision fogged. “Thank you, seonsaengnim. Thank you for letting me come.”

Jinyoung smoothed the sweat-matted hair off of Jaebum’s forehead, combing his fingers through the damp black strands. Lotion and come smeared tackily against his sweaty skin, but Jaebum didn’t care. Fatigue was crashing over him like a wave, catching up with him after all, the aftermath of his orgasm humming quietly in his veins. He felt weightless.

Jinyoung said, smiling, “You’re welcome.” And then, after a short, near-indiscernible hesitation, he bent forward to press a kiss against Jaebum’s brow, soft and lingering. “Sleep well, hyung.”

Jaebum grunted. He had a vague, half-formed thought of maybe returning the favor, but before he could voice it, his eyes were drooping—and then he was dead to the world, with only the memory of Jinyoung’s sweet, soft lips to guide him into sleep. _ _  
__

 


End file.
